Cat Porter was born and raised in New York City, but also spent a few years in Europe and Texas along the way. As an introverted, only child, she had very big, but very secret dreams for herself. She graduated from Vassar College, was a struggling actress, an art gallery girl, special events planner, freelance writer, restaurant hostess and had all sorts of other crazy jobs all hours of the day and night to help make her dreams come true. She has two children’s books traditionally published under her maiden name. She now lives in Athens, Greece with her husband and three children, and freaks out regularly and still daydreams way too much. She is addicted to the History Channel, her iPad, her husband’s homemade red wine, really dark chocolate, and her Nespresso coffee machine. Writing keeps her somewhat sane, extremely happy, and a productive member of society.

Grace turned to her BFFs standing on my other side. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, honey,” Dee replied. “You got it.”

Grace turned back to Lissa. “Did that register, or should I go over that one more time for you to make sure?”

Speechless.

I was transfixed.

“No, I-I got it,” Lissa mumbled.

“Let me know if you need a review of these basics because you cross those lines again, any of them, in any f*cking way, large or small—ever—there will be serious repercussions for you.” Grace leaned into Lissa. Her stance wide, my old lady looked larger than life. My cock stiffened against my jeans.

Grace leaned in closer, her hand gripping Lissa’s chin. “Honey, I get that bikers do it for you. But this particular biker is mine. All f*cking mine, head to toe, inside and out. So f-ck off. Got that?”

Grace released Lissa’s chin, and Lissa stiffly and slowly nodded her head, like a toy robot on its last charge of battery power.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Dee let out a throaty dark laugh.

“I know you’ve been trying your damnedest for the longest time. I’ve been watching. But he is not going to be tapping that ass of yours. Not ever. Get the f*ck out of my bar, and do not come back.” Grace was still, focused like a stealthy cobra calmly waiting in between strikes.